Child of the Autumn Leaves
by Dragon MoonX
Summary: Scabior was born in autumn. And once he was touched by the magic of the season, the forest became his home. Sequel to My Beautiful Flower.


**Child of the Autumn Leaves**

Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling and I don't own her characters. However the OC is mine.

 _Sequel to My Beautiful Flower_

* * *

The seasons were changing. Autumn had come to the forest, and leaves in magnificent shades of golden brown and rich crimson were falling from the trees. The leaves caught on the wind, spiraling and dancing as they filtered downwards towards the earth.

While the earth prepared for its long winter sleep, and the days grew shorter as the energies of nature retreated back into the soil, in a house on the edge of the forest a new life was beginning as a newborn baby entered the world and drew its first breath.

Little Scabior was only a few weeks old, his tiny body wrapped in warm blankets to keep away the autumn chill as he lay snuggled peacefully in his crib. Above his crib, his mother had hung a colorful mobile with brightly colored shapes and animals suspended from its frame. And in the corner of his crib sat a plush Pegasus horse, its smiling face gazing out the bedroom window.

Even though he was very young, Scabior had a full head of dark brown hair. He'd been born with it, his wet hair clinging to his pink face as he sobbed and wailed shortly after being born. When he was dried off and given to his mother, his hair began to fluff out in all directions, giving him the appearance of a fuzzy baby chick. This made his mother laugh as she smoothed his soft hair down around the sides and top of his head.

Another thing about Scabior was that he loved having his hair brushed. He giggled and cooed when his mother brushed his hair. He liked the attention he received when his hair was washed and dried. His hair was short, not yet long enough to reach his shoulders. But Scabior loved it, and developed an interest in caring for his luxurious locks at a young age.

One morning in mid autumn when Scabior was little more than a month old, the skies began to clear and the sun shone brightly as a cool wind rustled the leaves on the trees. It had been rather cold outside, the skies overcast and grey. But now that the sun was shining once again, Scabior's mother couldn't resist taking her precious son outside to show him the beauty of the world in all its brilliant autumn colors.

Scabior was dozing in his crib when his mother came and picked him up. He opened his grey-blue eyes and looked around. His room looked much brighter for some reason. Since when had it gotten so bright outside?

There was sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window, and as his mother held him in her arms, Scabior burbled in baby talk as he reached his little hands towards the warm sunlight. He'd never seen anything like this before, and it fascinated him.

"You like that, Scabior?' his mother asked, smiling at his attentiveness and how easily he noticed changes in his surroundings.

Scabior turned his head and looked up at her, his fingers in his mouth as he sucked on his thumb and forefinger.

Holding Scabior against her chest, Temperance used her free hand to pick up a plaid baby blanket and wrapped it around her son to keep him warm.

"Come on, sweetheart. Mummy's going to take you outside for some fresh air and sunshine."

The front door opened and Temperance walked outside, her son loosely wrapped in a soft blanket to protect him from the chill in the cold November air. The sun was shining overhead, the sky was a bright shade of powdery blue, and all around them leaves were falling in a splendid array of colors.

Scabior watched in awe as the leaves drifted down from the trees. Leaves of yellow and gold danced before him, some of them catching stronger gusts of wind and soaring high into the sky.

The little boy held up a hand, then another, trying to catch the leaves as they floated by.

Temperance smiled. "Are the leaves pretty, Scabior? Do you want to try to catch one?"

One leaf in particular, which was bright fiery red, detached itself from a tree and came slowly floating down on the wind.

Temperance pointed out the red leaf to her son and said, "Look, Scabior, it's beautiful, isn't it? You know, there's magic in the forest this time of year, when the seasons change and the leaves on the trees change colors. That's what makes this time of year so special. It has magic in it, just like you do."

Now Temperance didn't know for sure yet whether or not her son was magical. She assumed that with her being a witch and her husband being a wizard, chances were good that their little boy would be a wizard as well. For now Scabior was too young to show any signs of having magic in him...or so she thought.

The red leaf continued to dip and rise, spiraling and moving on the wind. It drew closer towards the little boy, until it came down and landed on Scabior's head.

Both the little boy and his mother gazed at the beautiful red leaf. Scabior went cross-eyed trying to see it, for the bottom half of the leaf was hanging down in his face and covering his nose. Then something magical began to happen.

There truly is magic in nature, and in the plants and animals that surround us. And when the magic contained within the red leaf touched the top of Scabior's head, it reacted to the magic in his body, and a red streak began to appear down the right side of his head, spreading from where the leaf had touched him and down the side of his hair.

Within seconds a bright crimson streak had formed in Scabior's hair. His mother plucked the leaf out of his hair, and gazed down at the red streak in her son's hair. It was exactly the same color and shade as the leaf in her hand.

Scabior had been touched by the magic of the season, the very essence of autumn had left its mark on him. This was the magic of the forest and the spirits within the trees. From then on Scabior would bear the mark of the autumn leaves and would grow to love the forest, seeing it as his home as he got older.

.oOo.

Years have passed, and Scabior is now a grown man living and working in the forest. He camps out with his band of Snatchers, tracking people through the dense woods, sometimes hunting for his own food and gathering wild herbs and mushrooms. He loves the beauty and freedom of the woodlands, as well as the thrill of the hunt when he's running after muggleborns through the forest.

It's within these woods that Scabior comes alive, feeling the spirit of the wilderness and the magic of the plants and animals in his heart. Tracking and hunting, chasing and dueling, he loves what he does and the environment he works in.

This morning the woods are quiet. The air has begun to cool, and Scabior knows that the warm summer months will soon come to an end.

He sat down in the grass near a stream in the woods. The air was even cooler there with a pleasant hint of moisture. He removed his boots, rolled up the legs on his plaid pants, and placed his feet in the water.

Scabior sighed and leaned back in the grass, letting the water wash over his feet in the stream. It felt good to sit in the shade, listening to the water trickling over the stones and the occasional bird song from the branches high above.

Above him, the sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground below with patterns of light and shadow. Each time the branches moved, rustling gently in the late summer breeze, the patterns shifted, casting speckled shadows on the Snatcher resting below.

Scabior raised a hand and began combing his fingers through his hair. He caught sight of his reflection in the water, and sat up a little straighter, turning his head and admiring the red streak in his hair.

A smile crossed his face as he remembered the story his mother told him when he was little, about how the red leaf had landed on him when he was a baby, and that he'd been touched by the magic of the forest and the changing seasons. Scabior loved that story, and asked his mother to tell it to him several times when he was a boy.

The red streak in his hair refused to fade with time. It stayed with him for the rest of his life, for Scabior always was and always would be the child of the autumn leaves.


End file.
